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четверг, 9 мая 2013 г.

Memories of childhood .... part of the world Aniyat Mirhan. English version

I spent my
childhood in a small village at the time (although there were already 2000
different years), we had an old TV that often broke, and if they worked, showed
that all of the program and then 2-3 with interference. Mobile phones and
computers I have certainly not been at all this free time I spent walking in
the street. In the summer my friends and I went to pick berries and mushrooms,
also loved to go fishing, I mainly fished using "spider", bringing
home on a package of small and sometimes quite decent fish. With a fishing rod
I did not like to mess around, and be honest, she was afraid of worms and I was
sorry for them and stick to the contrary hook, I never once planted a single
worm on a hook, for me it's done boys. I was also annoyed waiting for the fish
to bite, the process of fishing I did not relax, and just put out, so I just
simply leave your fishing pole boys and they fished it for me, and I at this
time shlyndala somewhere on village finding more and more classes.

How many
people tell me I had the gift of persuasion, from early childhood, instantly
placing people with him, even forced them to do what I needed. For example, I
once found a home herbalist and seriously fascinated by the collection of
different herbs at me they had a whole bag as a doctor, but instead of
medication - herbs. One day I read that the lower stem bulrush, when he is
young, you can eat it and even useful, now I do not remember anything. So, I
forced him to try almost all of my friends. But no one is indignant, all alive
and well. At the same time, I learned to plant trees, I came out well.

My
grandmother and all other medical career off to me. I am constantly dragged
home injured birds, dogs, cats and all the rest. For example, once the summer
on the field I found a pigeon, it is likely attacked kite, he had a small wound
on the wing and he looked like a plucked chicken, I did not have a lot of
feathers. Houses for me of course a little to shout but I still dragged him
home. Houses handled his wound with hydrogen peroxide, brilliant green and some
ointment from festering. It helped in two weeks he oklemalsya and disappeared
back home as soon as possible.

I have
lived and crows, I picked it up in the bushes near the house, was already
winter, and it shows very cold, I do not know what happened to him in general,
he was a retarded and could not fly, but the wings were like okay. At home, I
spent it all week, until slightly moved away, and then I was forced to evict
him in the barn, and there he remained until the spring, I just brought him
something to eat and drink.

But the
important thing is that I do not remember very nice, but I often recall I often
dissected dead birds, now I'm a little uncomfortable to recall it, but in 5
years I have seen very interesting, I even had a knife and a small knife, as
well as a needle and thread. For me always watched my best friend, she was
older than me, but never dared to repeat
my "experiments". Probably I seriously intended to become a surgeon
:-)

At 5 years
old, I wrote my first poem dedicated July, there were only 8-9 lines, but for
me and others like it.

In the six
years I have a new hobby - reading and basically I only read non-fiction books
I have is whole series of books on Egyptology and the history of the countries
of South America. I read them with pleasure and enthusiasm that I still
remember their content. And then I even outlined the true with a lot of
mistakes and clumsy hand (although this is not changed). I wanted to be an
Egyptologist, well, if at least a historian.

My friends
and summer until the night playing catch-up heels, until the parents drove us
home. A winter sledding down the hills, which we filled with water, so that the
resulting ice. They built towns and snow sculptured snowmen. In the spring and
during the summer rains I just loved to run barefoot through the puddles, the
water there was warm and pleasant. ....

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Do not go gentle into that good night

Покорно в ночь навек не уходи,Борись, борись, чтоб день не угасал,Чтоб молниям не дать остыть в грудиУставшего от жизни не буди.Пусть он мудрец — иссяк его запал.Но ты покорно в ночь не уходи*****************************************************Do not go gentle into that good night,Old age should burn and rage at close of day;Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.(стихотворение Дилана Томаса )